


Three Nights

by LuckyDiceKirby



Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Asexual Character, Dragon Age Kink Meme, M/M, canon-typical tevinter bullshit
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-29
Updated: 2015-11-29
Packaged: 2018-05-03 21:52:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,840
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5308169
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LuckyDiceKirby/pseuds/LuckyDiceKirby
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dorian wants something from Bull. He isn't quite sure what.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Three Nights

**Author's Note:**

> Written for [this](http://dragonage-kink.livejournal.com/15060.html?thread=58251220#t58251220) kink meme prompt.
> 
> I wrote a lot of this while I was a bit tipsy, which I figure Dorian would approve of. (don't worry, I edited sober!)
> 
> Not quite sure what to warn for, other than...general Tevinter shittiness with regard to sex and sexuality? And internalized acephobia.

Dorian is quite drunk the night that he finally gives in and goes to the Iron Bull's room. Three mugs of truly vile Ferelden ale, and then Varric had called for whiskey, and now Dorian is standing before Bull's door, swaying slightly on his feet. 

And why shouldn't he be here, he thinks, as he shifts on his feet and doesn't knock. The Iron Bull is kind, and attractive, and he has made it very clear that he wants to fuck Dorian. There is no reason in the world why Dorian should not oblige him. 

Dorian knocks, and the door swings open quickly, as if Bull had been standing behind it already.

"Was wondering how long it would take you to work up the courage," says Bull, leaning on the doorframe. 

Dorian sniffs. "Terribly rude of you. Are you going to let me in, or stand there looming in the dark like a savage all night?"

Bull laughs, and steps back from the door. He stops laughing when Dorian stumbles, just slightly, on his way in, and he reaches out a hand to steady him.

"Alright there, big guy?"

"I've never been better," Dorian says, leaning into Bull's hand: he is very warm. Of course, Dorian will not stay, after, but wouldn't it be nice? Warm and wrapped up with the Bull's arms around him. 

Well, no matter. Dorian is quite accustomed to wanting things he cannot have. He reaches up, letting Bull's hand support him, and his hands, after a bit of exploring, find the sides of the Bull's face.

It is quite a stretch. Dorian leans up on his toes, only to have Bull pull back out of his reach. 

With a huff, Dorian falls back on his heels. He crosses his arms and tilts his head up, feeling a bit dizzy for his effort. A common side effect of Varric's whiskey, and nothing to be alarmed about. 

Bull does not seem to agree. "Dorian," he says, "how much have you had to drink tonight?"

Dorian shrugs, the gesture perhaps a bit more expansive than it would have been were he sober. "No more than usual," he says.

"Yeah, and what's usual?"

"I wasn't aware that you were my mother. I should think I would have noticed; she has much more finesse in having the people she wants dead murdered than you and that axe of yours have." This is not how Dorian expected this conversation to go. He feels as though he has lost the thread of it, somewhere.

Bull turns to settle onto his bed, patting the space beside him. Dorian sits in his lap instead.

Dorian knows that Bull is strong, but knowing it and feeling him lift Dorian from his lap to sit beside him on the bed are very different things. At the present moment it makes Dorian feel a bit queasy. 

Bull sighs. "Don't let anyone ever tell you you're not persistent," he says when he sets Dorian down. "Normally I wouldn't complain, but I'm not going to fuck you when you're shitfaced."

"I don't see why not," Dorian says, flopping back on the bed to stare at Bull's ceiling. "Surely it makes things somewhat simpler."

"I ever tell you I fucking hate how screwed up Tevinter is?"

"Frequently," says Dorian. Bull's ceiling has many fewer cobwebs than Dorian's does. He feels fingers in his hair and startles, badly, knocking Bull's hand away and sitting up.

Bull is watching him, and the look on his face is...frustrating.

"I'll just be going, then," says Dorian. 

"You can stay," Bull tells him, and his eyes are very gentle. 

Dorian rolls his own eyes on his way out.

-

The next day, Dorian wakes with a hangover, nausea made worse by the persistent embarrassment tugging at his stomach. Drunkenly propositioning the Iron Bull is certainly not the worst thing Dorian has ever done while inebriated, but remembering it is still unpleasant.

It's Bull's fault, really, for turning him down. Dorian is not quite used to pursuing men who have much in the way of scruples. 

And the way Bull had looked at him, out of the corner of his eye, like Dorian was something precious, something that needed to be protected...

Ridiculous, and sentimental, and exactly the sort of thing that got you into deep trouble in Tevinter. 

Still. Dorian may have missed out on the sex, but that look had been nice. Dorian, against his better judgment, wants to see it again.

The next night, Dorian comes to Bull sober. He's had a few glasses of ale, but nothing close to enough to get him drunk. 

Bull is much more accommodating this time. He doesn't pull away when Dorian stretches up to kiss him, and he responds enthusiastically. 

Dorian is of two minds about kissing. It's not something he did a great deal of, back in Tevinter--two men together generally wanted to get things done as quickly as possible, and besides, it was embarrassing and degrading. Or it ought to be. Men might want to find sexual satisfaction with other men, and that was fine, if they had the decency to hide it, but intimacy? That was something else entirely.

Still. There had been Rilenius, who had loved to kiss Dorian, who had spent long minutes curled up in bed beside him doing nothing but that. Rilenius had taught Dorian that kissing could be chaste, and comfortable, and fun.

But in the end Rilenius had done what his family asked of him, and married, because he was a better son that Dorian would ever be. After that, Dorian became one of those men who did not kiss during his encounters. It's only now, kissing the Iron Bull, that he can really begin to admit that he misses it.

Bull does not kiss like Rilenius, but he also doesn't kiss like any of the other men Dorian has ever fucked. Dorian makes no move to deepen the kiss, and neither does Bull, and for a few moments that feel as fragile as spun glass, they stay like that: Dorian on his toes and his arms around Bull's neck, Bull's hands on his waist, the both of them sharing breath.

When they break apart, Dorian leaves his arms around Bull's neck and stays on his toes. Bull's hands on his waist are supporting most of his weight. 

Bull is looking at him again, that same soft look. Dorian can feel his ears burning.

His heart thumps tellingly in his chest.

Dorian loves and hates it equally, because it was like this with Rilenius too--it felt like this, and then they had sex, and that was supposed to feel like this too. But it hadn't, even when Dorian kept expecting it to. It was always just uncomfortable. But there was no way to say, _Amatus--_ as if he would ever have dared call Rilenius that-- _why don't we just kiss a while, and not do anything else_ \--no. There was no way to say that. Even with Rilenius, who had liked kissing, who had liked just lying together when they could snatch the moments--even with him, that would have been absurd.

Sex had always seemed a fair price to pay, for the opportunity to lie together afterwards, whenever that was allowed.

It was not often allowed. But when he couldn't have those moments, curled up together, the sex was better than nothing.

"Hey," says Bull, and it is only then that Dorian comes back to himself with a jolt. He drops his arms from Bull's neck. "Where'd you go, big guy?"

"My apologies," says Dorian, blush rising again, much against his will. "I only--" He is not sure how to finish the sentence. _I only want to do this, just kiss you, because despite everything you are kind and warm and_ safe _..._ No.

Dorian takes a step back. Bull lets him. Dorian almost wishes he didn't.

"Alright?" asks Bull.

"I--" Dorian's throat feels dry and tight. 

"How about this," says Bull. He brings one of his hands to Dorian's neck, lightly. Like he's gentling an animal. "Why don't you tell me what you want?"

Men do not typically ask Dorian what he wants. They assume, and expect him to voice his objections if he has any. 

Bull is not like most men. Dorian already knows this.

Dorian also knows this is not Tevinter. He has known that for quite some time, of course--he is not an imbecile. But he is just now beginning to feel it in his bones. 

It's that thought that allows Dorian to resist the urge to lower eyes, and to tell Iron Bull the truth. 

"I don't know what I want," Dorian says, and his voice comes out too rough. Unused to honesty, he supposes, and then he does turn his face away from Bull's gaze, from his hand at Dorian's neck.

"Hey," Bull says. "That's alright. You open to suggestions?"

Dorian wonders what kind of activities the Iron Bull might suggest. From what he's overheard at the Herald's Rest, from the Chargers, from Bull himself, indiscreet as ever--well, he can certainly guess.

He shakes his head. "If it's all the same to you," Dorian says, and this time his voice sounds right, smooth and steady, "if it's all the same to you. I think I will take my leave."

Bull steps back as soon as he says it. Dorian feels the loss immediately, aches with it. 

Why is it, he wonders bleakly, that he must always make things so _difficult_ for himself? 

Bull is watching as he leaves, and that same gentleness is there, but there is also something else this time, something assessing. 

It weighs on Dorian's mind as he leaves.

-

The thing is, the Iron Bull is _infuriating_.

He teases Dorian, yes, but he also reminisces with him, fights beside him, drinks with him.

It is as if there is an ember, buried in Dorian's chest, and he can feel it burning brighter whenever Bull is near. 

It's not that Dorian is a child. He has felt this way before. He knows this.

It is just, well. Bull wants to fuck him; he isn't very subtle. Dorian wants...Well. That is a sentence in and of itself, isn't it? Dorian wants.

This part is not new, at least. Dorian is used to wanting things he cannot have. 

In the Emerald Graves, Bull asks Dorian about the plaza in Minrathous, the cracked bell, and when they return to Skyhold the next night Dorian does not bother to stop by the Herald's Rest before going to Bull's rooms.

Bull isn't there yet, but that's fine. They aren't locked. Dorian lights a fire while he waits, and he sits on Bull's bed. It's more comfortable than he remembers it being, that night he was drunk.

He wakes to the sound of a roaring fire and of the door closing, and of a soft chuckle.

"Now isn't this a nice surprise," says Bull. 

Dorian sits up, and smirks. "I do aim to please," he says airily. He hopes his hair isn't too mussed. 

Bull comes to sit down beside him on the bed, and Dorian moves easily to straddle him.

He rests his hands on Bull's chest. His skin is quite warm.

Bull merely sits back and watches him. Dorian was hoping that he would take control--that's what usually happens, and it is easy enough for Dorian to simply let himself be swept along, do whatever will make his partner happy. 

Bull is, unexpectedly, kind. It won't be so bad.

But like this, Dorian is not quite sure what to do.

The moment stretches between them. Bull's gaze is steady. 

"Dorian," he says, finally.

"Yes?"

"Do you want to have sex with me?"

Dorian stares at him. 

In his life, Dorian has had quite a bit of sex with quite a few different men. He did it to satisfy his curiosity, to rebel against his father, to gain the attentions of men that he fancied. It was Tevinter: everyone had ulterior motives. 

He is not in Tevinter anymore. It's still sinking in, Dorian is realizing. 

"Do you know," he says, "no one has ever asked me that. Not really. Not in so many words." 

Bull is still watching him.

Dorian looks down at his hands, resting on Bull's chest. "I want you," he says.

"That's not really what I asked, is it, big guy?"

Dorian squeezes his eyes shut. He can't bear to look at Bull, not now. "I suppose I don't want to have sex with you, no," he says, words coming slowly from his mouth, falling heavily like stones on the floor. "I won't trouble you any further." He makes to get up, but Bull's sudden grip on his bicep stops him.

"You gonna look at me any time this age, Dorian?"

"I don't see why it matters. Our business here is concluded, I should think."

"If that's what you want, then that's fine. But maybe I just wanna sit and talk for a bit. Think you can do that?"

Dorian clenches and unclenches his hands, watching the play of the bone and muscle under his skin. He nods. Part of him wants to leave, to hide, to never darken the doorstep of Bull's bedroom again. But he cannot bring himself to refuse an offer to stay, though he knows that he should.

"So you don't want to have sex with me." Dorian can feel his cheeks flushing. He shakes his head. "Do you want to have sex with anyone?"

"I don't--there are parts that I like. Afterwards, mostly, or before."

"Dorian."

He sighs, as theatrically as he can manage. "No. I don't."

"Any particular reason you've been propositioning me, then?" asks Bull, eyebrow raised.

Dorian splutters. "Surely I don't have to spell this out for you," he says.

"Try me."

Dorian slings himself out of Bull's lap, stands. He begins to pace. "I have been propositioning you because that is what one does, is it not? To show interest."

"Uh," says Bull. "In my experience, it's what you do when you wanna fuck someone. Which you don't."

"My experiences are clearly quite different from yours."

"Yeah," Bull says. He doesn't look amused. "I'm getting that. So, you don't want to sleep with me. Before, I asked you what you wanted. You got an answer now?"

Dorian watches the fire, the crackling of it. He doesn't look at Bull, and he says, "I meant what I said. I want you. In a...oh, kaffas, Bull. You know what I mean. I don't know why you're insisting on humiliating me, forcing me to ask for things I know you've no inclination to give me."

Bull sighs. "Do you usually decide the answer's gonna be 'no' before you ask for things? Because that seems like a pretty poor strategy from where I'm standing."

Dorian turns around to face him. "I don't--you can't expect me to believe you want some kind of _relationship_ , Bull. Qunari don't do relationships."

"Yeah, well." Bull shifts, the first time in this conversation that he has looked anything less than comfortable. "I'm not Qunari anymore. Haven't been for a while." Dorian remembers how Bull had looked, all those months ago, after the Storm Coast. Haunted. 

"I don't...know how to do this, really," says Dorian. He feels like he's on a ship, the floor shifting beneath his feet. His world is rearranging itself. 

"You think I do?" asks Bull.

The absurdity of it all strikes Dorian then. A Tevinter magister and a Tal Vashoth spy. What a pair they make.

He begins to laugh. After a moment, Bull joins him, and Dorian goes to him, stands between his knees, rests his hands on Bull's shoulders. Like this, they are almost of a height. Dorian wants to kiss the smile off Bull's face.

"I don't see how you think this is going to work," he says. "You like sex."

Bull shrugs. "I like a lot of things," he says. "I like giving people what they need." He pauses, looks past Dorian to watch the fire. "I like you." 

Dorian realizes: it was hard for him to say it. This is hard for Bull too. He is not alone in this.

He leans in, rests his forehead against Bull's, closes his eyes. Breathes in.

"I've got an idea," says Bull. Their noses are touching. Dorian can feel his breath. "It's late. Stay the night." 

"Just to sleep?" asks Dorian, eyes still closed.

"Yeah," says Bull. "I'm not saying there won't be things to hash out. But I want this, with you. I think we could have something good."

"I'm--inclined to agree."

"Great," says Bull, and even with his eyes closed, Dorian knows that he is smiling. "Why don't we start with breakfast?"

Staying the night. Breakfast. Dorian can feel that ember again, burning bright enough to consume him. 

Maybe this is something he can have, after all.

"Yes," he says, at length. "Alright."

**Author's Note:**

> find me on [tumblr](http://luckydicekirby.tumblr.com/) and we can cry about dragon age and ace headcanons together


End file.
